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It doesn’t matter what last night was, I need to keep Oliver in mind. What if I sleep with her and she started avoiding us completely? Oliver would be crushed. Ever since she gave him that sketchpad and the info for art lessons, every other word out of his mouth is Bianca.
I can’t help but smile to myself as I make my way up to the front door. He’s got his first art class next weekend and I’ve never seen him this excited. Not even about ice-cream, and that says a lot.
I’m about to put my key into the lock when I realize there’s a white paper shoved between the door and the jam at eye level. Pulling it out, I get a weird feeling, like I’m being watched. I quickly look over my shoulder but don’t see anyone, just a street filled with empty and quiet cars. My name is scrawled across the front of the envelope just like last time. Quickly unlocking the door, I slip inside and make sure I engage not only the lock, but the deadbolt as well. I set the note down on the table and quickly go from room to room, making sure every window and any other point of entry is secure. I’m always good about locking up the house but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
I don’t have any gloves on me right now, so I improvise by grasping it on the very edge and using a letter opener to reveal the folded-up piece of paper inside. I grab a set of tweezers topull it out and slowly unfold it. Fetching the first letter from the drawer, I place them side by side on the table.
Yup, those are the same black block letters from the first note.
YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE.
I slip this letter into another plastic bag and move it to the table near the front door. The first letter was vague and rather harmless if a bit creepy. This one has certainly taken on a more threatening tone. I know it’s probably nothing but it’s time to bring Rafe in on this. Maybe he has a connection in forensics that can run prints on them. DNA would be much harder to get, the department has months of backlogs not to mention all the cold cases and old rape kits they’re going back and processing. Hopefully, fingerprints will be enough.
I wrack my brain but can’t think of anyone I could have pissed off lately. They say I took their family, maybe I arrested their kid? This is going to be impossible without something else to go on. Seattle may have only a fraction of the violent crimes and arrests of Los Angeles but there is still more than enough to keep me busy. This person could be upset about anything.
I don’t like that they walked straight up to my front door and left it here. I’m going to have to get an alarm installed. Odds are it’s just some crazy person, but I know better than anyone that bad things happen to good people and I refuse to let Oliver get hurt.
***
“Wait, wait. You did what?”
Gloria gives me a look like I might be stupid for not grasping what she’s telling me.
“I dislocated my knee and ripped just a few ligaments.” She has two crutches wedged under her arms but manages to make a gesture down to her leg that’s wrapped in some kind of brace from mid-calf to mid-thigh that’s not allowing her leg to bend.
“And how did you do it?” I rub the bridge of my nose hard enough that I can see colors burst behind my eyelids.
She lets out a belabored sigh like she’s explaining something to a child. “My gentleman friend, Arty over there,” she lifts the crutch in her right hand and waves it in the air to the car idling at the curb with an older gentleman behind the wheel. “Well, he and I were having a bit of an early afternoon delight and Dorothy at the club told us about this new position where you stretch—”
I hold up my hands ready to beg her to stop. I never should have asked. “And you and this Arty are going to take Oliver to your place to watch him tonight?”
“As usual,” she says with a smile. I look over at Oliver who is sitting on the porch drawing away in his sketchpad. I should have known something was wrong when she asked me to come outside instead of her coming to the door as usual. I’m shocked she could even get out of the car with that thing, let alone traverse my walkway and the two stairs up to the porch.
I glance back at Artie again who appears to be happily fiddling with the radio in a Chrysler that looks more like a small boat than a car. The man looks old as dirt and can barely see over the steering wheel. I’m not sure I want OliverorGloria riding with him. Maybe I should ding his license so he has to go back to the DMV and update those tests.
“There’s no way, Gloria. You can’t be running around after a five-year-old. I’m sure you’re in a ton of pain too.”
“It’s really not bad, Carson.” The only tell that lets me know she’s lying is that she won’t quite meet my eyes. They’re pinned to the tip of my nose. She’s good, remind me not to play poker with her.
“It’s totally fine. Accidents happen. I can call the sitter and see if she can make it last minute.” My voice doesn’t sound convincing even to my own ears. The only sitter I’ve found here so far is a senior in high school who I’m pretty sure looks at her phone more than she does my kid.
“That’s really not necessary,” Gloria weakly argues while I hold the phone to my ear, listening to it ring twice and go to voicemail. Shit.
The strain of standing out here on the sidewalk is starting to show on Gloria’s face. I knew she was in more pain than she was letting on. “C’mon. Let’s get you back in the car. I’ll just call out tonight. It’s not a big deal.” It’s totally going to be a big deal. I just started. I probably only have a few hours of PTO banked. I help maneuver her, crutches and all, slowly towards the waiting car while she weakly protests.
“Bianca can watch me!” Both mine and Gloria’s heads snap to Oliver who is pointing to something behind us. If only the Olympics gave out medals for synchronized whiplash.
What I see has me raising an eyebrow in amusement. Apparently, Oliver’s yell exposed Bianca trying to sneak past us. She looks like a cartoon burglar taking comically big tip-toe steps and then freezes once they’ve been spotted. Her eyes are wide and she’s frozen mid-step, foot floating in the air, ready to move forward. I wonder how long she can hold that pose because she’s starting to teeter.
Oliver shoots across the grass and latches onto her leg almost sending her crashing to the ground. “Oliver, be careful,” I scold. Gloria turns to me with a knowing smile on her face and mischief in her eyes.
“And who is this?” Gloria asks loud enough for her to hear. Bianca glances at the front door of her house and I know she’s wondering if she can make a run for it. I guess she decides she won’t make it since her head shakes and she makes a slow marchover to where we’re standing, like she’s a condemned man on his way to the guillotine.
“You can watch me tonight, right Bianca?”
“Oh…uh…”
Gloria decides to put her out of her misery by changing the subject. “Hello, dear. I’m Gloria Edwards and it appears you already know my Great Nephew Carson and my Great-Great Nephew Oliver.”
